A Brother's Legacy
by BengalCat
Summary: drabble. post Side B. Ken comes back from England to give something to Ayachan. crappy title.


yay! back with another story, and already breaking my golden rule... no x-over this time, sry folks... written and uploaded on the same afternoon. that was some insistent plot bunny, I can tell you... (rolls eyes)

if you spot any mistakes, please catch them and hand them back to me. they always get lost in my fics, poor dears...

disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz is not mine. nor is Weiß Side B. I'm not making any profit of these stories either, so don't come buggering me if you need money...

A Brother's Legacy

'Irrashai!', she called out, looking up from her calculations. It was boring work, but someone had to do it.

Her greeting was not answered; instead, the man who had just entered the shop directed a steady gaze at her, moving to stand in front of the counter. She straightened up, confused. The man had to be in his mid-twenties; he was quite handsome with dark brown eyes and hair, dressed in plain black clothing, reasonably tall and broad-shouldered, with a slim waist and smooth, measured movements. All in all, not quite the kind of customer one would expect at a shop like the Koneko No Sumu Ie.

She scrambled for words. His eyes, though of a warm colour, betrayed no emotion except for maybe tiredness, and she wondered at that while staring into those dark pools, transfixed. Did she know this man? Somehow, she had a feeling, she should, but she could not remember seeing him ever before, try as she might.

'Fujimiya Aya-san?', he asked in a smooth, deep, rich voice. She knew, under any other circumstance, she would have felt a shiver running up her spine at the tone of his voice; but so, she merely tore her eyes away from his face and reminded herself to breathe.

'Yes- can I help you?'

'I would like to talk to you. In private, if you don't mind.' He wasn't being polite, not in a way she was used to, and she felt even more confused, although not about the lack of manners.

'Ano- yes, of course, you…. We could go upstairs…' She trailed off.

He shook his head. 'No need. It won't take long.'

'Well, then…. Let's – let's go to the storeroom, it's just at the back-'

'I know where it is.'

'Oh. Uh- okay...' She made her way around the counter to close the door, then came back and led the way to the storeroom, all the while feeling his eyes following her. The storeroom was tiny, stuffed and cramped, and lit only by an even tinier window. She switched on the light upon entering, and turned around to face her unusual customer who was regarding her with the same emotionless look he had worn before. Emotionless, but not cold; the look of a man who simply was too tired, too exhausted to feel any longer. And she wondered again.

'What- uh, what did you want to talk about with me?', she asked, and when he didn't answer, 'Have we met before?'

It was rude to ask, of course, but she had to know.

He shook his head slightly. 'No. But I have something to give you.'

He held out his hand, and it took her a couple of seconds to recognise the object she was looking at: a katana, in a silken case.

Before she could do anything to stop them, her hands moved, out of their own accord, to take the sword from him, and he placed it lightly in them. It was heavy, the red silk of the case worn in places, and it felt- it felt as if something incredibly precious had just been given to her.

The man's hand released the weapon, though slowly, as if hesitant to let go.

'It's name is Shion. It was your brother's. He would have wanted you to have it.'

She was staring at the sword when she heard the words. It felt like something constricted in her chest; it was suddenly impossibly hard to breathe.

'Ran?' It came out as a strangled whisper. She had to swallow, the words felt like they were going to choke her: 'Are you saying Ran is- is…'

He didn't answer, and she struggled on. 'Ran isn't- he can't… he, he just went abroad…. He asked me if I was happy, and I said yes- he's –he must be happy, somewhere, too-' She realised she was sobbing, and said nothing more.

'Keep it well. He loved this sword, almost as much as he loved you.' The man's voice was steady.

'That's a lie!', she tried in a miserable, small voice, through numb lips. 'Tell me that it's a lie!'

'That would be a lie.'

'Why- why are you telling me this?'

'Haven't you got a right to know?'

'I'd rather not know!' She was crying now, and she felt ashamed, but there was nothing she could do; the tears just kept coming. She was clutching the sword in stiff hands, shaking. He was watching her, and she felt even more ashamed for crying in front of a stranger.

'Really?', he asked softly.

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes and suddenly laughing through her tears. 'I'm sorry.'

'What for? I wish I could cry, too.' The last words were so soft she hardly caught them.

She looked up. His eyes were just as emotionless as before.

'Who are you?'

'I like to think of myself as his friend.'

Suddenly, there was hatred. Hatred and contempt. For himself.

He turned to go. 'Sayounara, Aya-san.'

'Matte!'

She was not heard. He left her in the storeroom, clutching the sword.

sorry for this... >. 


End file.
